Way of the Open Hand
by Cyclone
Summary: Reposted from Spacebattles. While at summer camp, Taylor got separated and learned to be a monk. Mainly 5th Edition, but I reserve the right to pull monk abilities from any edition I so choose.
1. Prelude - Lia, Sophia

**Way of the Open Hand**  
 _Prelude - Lia, Sophia_

 _Damn all cultists._

Merrick had warned the whole party before they had interrupted the demonic summoning that it would be at _least_ three months before the stars realigned again should someone tumble through one of the random portals being generated during the battle. Krohn certainly wasn't going to let her hear the end of this when she got back, unfortunately.

Lia Amastacia honestly didn't know why she'd taken the lost little human girl in. Then again, after two months, she had been slowly going mad - even an elven monk needed some social interaction - and she still had at least another month to wait. And to be fair, she supposed she didn't really have it in her to let the little girl wander around the woods alone. Apparently, she was at something called "summer camp" and had gotten separated and lost.

As she watched the girl go through the forms again with a curious intensity, she reconsidered the direction her life had taken since she'd left the monastery.

 _Perhaps I should retire,_ she mused. _Teaching certainly has its appeal._

This would be a good trial run. And she should probably touch up one of her old training manuals for the girl anyway. Incomplete training could be more dangerous than no training at all.

* * *

Sophia couldn't figure Hebert out.

It had seemed pretty simple when she'd laid things out for Emma in that alley. There were two kinds of people: winners and losers, strong and weak, predator and prey, wolves and sheep. It wasn't just about power, though. That kind of strength was different. No, what she had been talking about was attitude. How you approached ad-... adversity? Yeah, that was the word.

The strong fought back. Even if it was hopeless, they'd at least face their end with defiance and dignity. The weak? They'd crumble. They'd give in. They'd let it break them.

She knew she'd overreacted when she first met Hebert, but damn it, she'd finally found someone who really seemed to _understand_ , someone she could _relate_ to. A friend, maybe. Then this happy-go-lucky little shit, who couldn't _possibly_ understand real suffering, came waltzing back to town, expecting to take her new friend away? How else was she supposed to react?

But Emma had run with it. Sophia wasn't sure how she felt about how easily Emma had turned on someone who, allegedly, had been her best friend for years. But that was okay. Emma was reinventing herself, she'd reasoned, cutting away her weakness, and Hebert was part of that.

Except not.

She could see the steel in Hebert's eyes, even as she took whatever abuse Emma dished out. But _only_ what Emma did. A trip here, a shove there, and the girl always regained her balance, didn't even acknowledge it. They'd tried sabotaging her schoolwork, but she always _somehow_ managed to avoid any damage to it. It wasn't anything Sophia could put her finger on, either. Just too many times, she'd gotten lucky. It was obvious the words hurt more than anything else: the insults, the betrayal of secrets...

But she never fought back. In a year and a half, not once did she fire back a return barb or raise so much as a finger in retaliation. But she never broke, either.

Not like they had.

Emma didn't see it. She only saw the results of her own handiwork.

All those thoughts came rushing back to her as she crouched on the rooftop. She wasn't supposed to be out patrolling right now - stupid Wards probation - but Emma was out of town, visiting some family down south, and if she stayed cooped up at PHQ or, worse, at home, she was going to go stir crazy.

She saw three of them. E88 skinheads, converging on a brunette - on _Taylor fucking Hebert_ \- the leader gesticulating suggestively with a knife in some twisted parody of how Sophia had first met Emma.

 _I wonder how she'll react,_ she thought. _I'll step in before they actually hurt her,_ she promised.

The gangbangers got within arm's reach, and Hebert exploded into motion. Sophia blinked, and the gangbangers went down. All of them, one right after the other, like dominos.

"Daaaamn, girl."

Hebert looked up, eyes pinning her in place, and Sophia gave a mental wince before hopping down, shifting to her shadow form to slow her fall.

"Shadow Stalker, right?" Heb- _Taylor_ asked.

"Yeah."

"Thought you were supposed to be a hero. When were you planning on helping? Or is that not your thing?"

"When you needed it," Sophia said, giving her a shrug. "You obviously didn't."

Taylor snorted, rolling her eyes... which then widened. "Look out!"

 _What the fu-?_

A gunshot rang out. Sophia's head whipped around to the sound. There was another one at the mouth of the alley, gun in han- no, he was dropping it, stumbling against the wall, clutching at his side. She turned back to Hebert, who was... shaking her hand like it stung?

 _No. Fucking. Way._

"You're a cape?!"

"No." Taylor shook her head. "Learned that at summer camp."

That was the moment Sophia's brain broke.

"What."

* * *

A/N: By the way, Lia's name is _not_ a reference to any other 'fic. I just picked an elven female first name and an elven last name from the example lists in the PHB5E.


	2. Initiation 1-1

**Way of the Open Hand**  
 _Initiation 1.1_

I really only had myself to blame for this, but I didn't really have friends, there wasn't a lot to do during winter break, and there was only so much training you could do before you started to lose your mind. Taking a walk had seemed like a good idea, but I'd gotten distracted and wandered into Empire territory.

Oh, well.

Thankfully, Shadow Stalker agreed to keep my part in the takedown out of it - the last thing I needed was to be mistaken for a parahuman... or have Dad worrying about me even more - but as we waited for the BBPD, she blindsided me with a question.

So. Shadow Stalker went to Winslow. I suppose that made sense. Arcadia was known as the Wards school; everyone knew that, so any Ward who _didn't_ go to Arcadia would have better protection for their identities. Clever. It made me wonder of _any_ of the Wards actually went to Arcadia.

I shook off the thought and refocused on what she'd asked. The bullies. The trio. Why I never fought back. I shrugged. "They aren't worth the trouble," I answered finally. "Madison's a lapdog." I flapped my fingers together in demonstration. "Yap yap yap; ultimately harmless. Emma?" I rolled my eyes and waved off my former best friend. "She's a traitor who betrayed a lifelong friendship for kicks. How long do you figure before her new friends realize she'll turn on _them_ the moment she figures it'd be fun? They can't all be _that_ stupid."

Shadow Stalker nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I get that," she said. Odd, she seemed a little distracted. Probably just anxious for the BBPD to get here. She seemed the type who would hate just standing around.

"I'm just glad I found out what kind of person she is when I did," I added quietly. "When I came back from summer camp, I was so... _eager_ to show her the things I'd learned, how to fight, but..." I shook my head. "I don't know if I could have lived with myself if I'd given someone like that those kinds of skills."

It went silent for a moment, before Shadow Stalker asked, "What about Sophia?"

"Sophia?" I couldn't keep myself from snorting. "What _about_ Sophia? She's a thug, plain and simple. At least Emma and Madison get creative sometimes, but her? Short of trying to kill me, nothing she can do to me really _matters_."

"You really mean that," she murmured, wonder in her voice. "They... really don't mean a thing to you."

"Why should they?" I asked. "I mean, come on. Think about it. They never try anything alone. They're always ganging up on me, three to one odds at minimum. What does that say about them?" I shook my head. "Bullies are cowards, and they're no exception. After I graduate, I'll leave this behind and move on with my life, while they'll keep trying to push people around until, some day, they'll try to push around the wrong person and wind up face down in a ditch somewhere."

"Huh," was her only response. She seemed a little... preoccupied? No, overwhelmed. That's when I realized the verbal diarrhea I'd unloaded on her.

"Sorry," I apologized. "I've always been a bit of chatterbox, and I haven't really had anyone to talk to since high school started."

"Yeah," she said distractedly. "Never would have guessed."

Yyyeah... I should probably shut up now.

We lapsed back into silence, as we heard the sirens approach, and she reached over and pressed something into my hand. What-? I blinked at it. It was a crumpled scrap of paper with a phone number on it.

She tilted her head. "Keep in touch."

"Sure," I said, stuffing it in my pocket.

While I was giving my statement to the BBPD, Miss Militia showed up too. I might have been a bit more excited if she hadn't looked so upset. In fact, she was positively _radiating_ disapproval as she brushed right past me toward Shadow Stalker.

"You know you're not supposed to patrol alone, Shadow Stalker," I overheard.

"Hey." Shadow Stalker bristled. "I wasn't just going to stand by and let those punks hurt someone."

I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. Uh huh. Pull the other one. Still, I didn't really blame her. Everyone gets scared sometimes, after all. I guess even experienced heroes were no exception.

Instead, I looked over at the officer who'd taken my statement. "Did you need anything else, officer?" I asked. "Or can I go now?"

"That's it," he said. "Do you need a ride?"

I shook my head. "No, thanks. I'm fine." With that, I gave Shadow Stalker a parting nod and left.

As I walked home, I considered what had happened. That fight had been exhilarating, and talking with Shadow Stalker had been nice.

You know, Lia-sensei had found the whole cape culture thing more than a little insane when I'd explained it to her, and I had to admit, it _was_ a little silly. Still, it was how it worked here on Earth-Bet, and one day, maybe, I'd put a costume together and join them, be a hero.

But I didn't think I was ready.

Sure, I could catch the occasional bullet, and I was pretty sure I could dodge explosions too, but I hadn't actually tested that yet. But I could do more. I knew I could.

I just needed to train more, get stronger.

It was just a matter of time and training.

I reached into my pocket and fingered the scrap of paper.

Maybe I'd just found a sparring partner?


	3. Initiation 1-2

**Way of the Open Hand**  
 _Initiation 1.2_

I was bored.

Bored bored bored.

I was sitting on my bed, leaning against the wall. Dad was at work, of course, and I still didn't have any friends.

Or did I?

I sat up and headed for my dresser. It took my a while to find it, and I hesitated as I looked at the scrap of paper Shadow Stalker had given me.

I gave a mental shrug. It was worth a try.

I picked up the phone and dialed.

"Stalker here." Her voice was brusque, almost rude.

"Hello, um, Shadow Stalker?" I said. "I'm not sure if you remember me. We met yesterday...?"

"Taylor!" she said, her voice warmer. "What's up?"

I paused and considered. "You free right now?" I asked.

"Sure," she answered. "Wanna meet up?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Got anything in mind?"

"Well... I could use a sparring partner."

* * *

We met at a gym. It was closed for the winter, but apparently, the owner owed Shadow Stalker and had given her a key so she could work out in private without having to go to Protectorate Headquarters.

We'd gone a few rounds, and she wasn't bad. At first, I thought she'd been holding back... and in a way, she had been. She was obviously very used to fighting with her powers, to the point that even when she started using her crossbow (with blunted bolts), she was still off her game.

Still, it got my blood pumping. Dad didn't make a very good sparring partner - I was pretty sure he was just too afraid of hurting me to go all out - so this was a refreshing change of pace.

"What is strength?"

"Excuse me?" I blinked. Right now, we were cooling off.

"You heard me," she pressed. "What is strength?"

"Bodily power, athletic training, and the extent to which you can exert raw physical force," I said, the answer coming immediately to mind. "Useful for close quarters combat, thrown weapons, and things like climbing, jumping, and swimming."

She stared at me for a moment, then shook her head. She seemed to grope at the air for a moment. "Not that kind of strength," she said. "I mean, the bullies, they're beneath you; you pretty much said as much. What makes you better than them?"

"Oh, that." So she meant something more figurative. Why was she so interested? This was her way of making small talk, I guess. I shrugged and quoted, "'I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.'"

"Huh?"

"Invictus, by Henley," I explained. "It's a matter of self-awareness. Some people feel the need to _prove_ how strong they are because, deep down, they know they're really not, and it's easier than actually trying to _make_ themselves stronger. They think that if enough people _believe_ they're strong, they actually _will_ be, but it's an illusion." I shook my head. "For better or worse, I can't fool myself like that. Only I define me; no one else. 'I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.'"

"Invictus, huh?"

I nodded. "Yeah. It's Latin for 'unconquered.' Henley suffered a lot in his life, but he never let adversity change who he was. Neither will I."

"Hmm."

"Care for another round?" I asked. "This time, go ahead and use your powers."

She hesitated. "You sure?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "There's a trick I've been meaning to try. I want to see if it works."

We squared off again, and she snapped off a shot with her crossbow, before hopping away at an oblique angle. I caught the bolt and flung it back as she took advantage of her shadow form's lower mass to hop to the rafters, before darting down toward me. The bolt went wide.

I sidestepped her attack and struck - one, two, three blows - and hooked my foot around her ankle, trying to trip her. She managed to stay on her feet and recovered quickly, going to her shadow form to try and get some breathing room. I didn't give her the chance.

Pressing the attack, I punched, my fist connecting fairly solidly with her insubstantial mask, knocking her back. It felt weird, like punching water - I don't think I got as solid a hit in as I would have if she hadn't been in her shadow form - but it obviously caught her off-guard.

"The fuck?" she blurted out as she scrambled away. "How the fuck did you do that?"

"Ki."

"'Key'?"

"Or chi, I suppose," I allowed. Ki was the term actually used by Lia-sensei; the sensei part was actually something I'd gotten from some old wire-fu movies Dad used to watch. "Um, you know the Force in Star Wars? It's kinda like that. Life energy, soul energy, whatever you want to call it. With enough training, you can focus it well enough to do some pretty amazing things. Like hitting things you shouldn't physically be able to."

"Teach me," she demanded.

"No," I said, shaking my head.

"Why not?"

"Emma," I said with a shrug. "I thought I knew her, but... if the last year and a half have taught me anything, it's that I'm a lousy judge of character. I'm sure you're a good person and all, but... once burned, twice shy, you know? And you can't say I'm not being fair; I mean, you won't even show me your face."

"I..." she trailed off. "All right, you win."

"That puts me ahead... what? Eleven to two?"

"Shut up."


	4. Initiation 1-3

**Way of the Open Hand**  
 _Initiation 1.3_

I was on the couch when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Dad said as he stepped out of the kitchen.

I turned back to my book but surreptitiously kept an eye on the door. Dad opened the door, revealing a dark-haired woman in a suit, with the telltale bulge in her jacket of a shoulder holster.

"Can I help you?" Dad asked warily.

"Mister Hebert?" she asked. At his nod, she flashed a badge and continued, "I'm Hannah Washington with the PRT. I have a few questions for your daughter regarding the attack the other day."

"'Attack'? What atta-" He broke off and turned to me. " _Taylor_."

"What?" I asked, as innocently as I could.

"You told me you just went for a walk."

"I did!"

"Then why is the PRT here?"

"Mister Hebert," Ms. Washington interjected, "according to the report, some Empire Eighty-Eight members may have been... making advances toward your daughter when Shadow Stalker intervened. She was unharmed, and all of the gang members involved are in custody."

Dad looked slightly relieved but turned back at her. "I'll ask again: Why is the PRT here? Does she need to make a statement or something?"

"The officers on site took her statement then," she said, "but we have reason to believe another parahuman may have been present."

What?

* * *

"What we know is that one of the perps suffered what appeared to be a gunshot wound, and the bullet matched his own weapon," Ms. Washington said. We'd relocated to the kitchen table to discuss the matter.

"So... he shot himself?" Dad asked, confused.

"That's what Shadow Stalker's report suggests," she said, "but while the forensic evidence indicates he did fire his weapon, there were no powder burns on the wound itself, and the damage is consistent with a much lower velocity, as though someone had shot him with his own gun from very far away."

"So... what does that mean?" I asked.

"Shadow Stalker maintains she didn't see exactly what had happened to him," she said, "but there are a few parahuman powers that could account for his injury. Miss Militia, for example, could easily copy the weapon, perhaps with low velocity ammunition. Vista's power, also, could account for the evidence by redirecting the bullet's flight path. A precise enough telekinetic or a Brute with sufficiently fast reflexes could also have, say, caught the bullet and thrown it back. We were hoping you might have seen something that could tell us more."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said. "I wish I could help, but as far as I know, Shadow Stalker was the only parahuman there."

Which was true. I wasn't a parahuman.

"I see," she said after a long moment of silence. "Well, thank you for your time, Miss Hebert. If you do think of anything, though, here's my card."

After we saw Miss Washington out, Dad turned to me and crossed his arms. "So when were you going to tell me about this, Taylor?"

I waved it off. "I just took a walk, Dad. I wasn't in any danger."

He didn't answer. Instead, he just looked at me skeptically.

"I found a new sparring partner?" I offered.


	5. Interlude 1A - Emma

**Way of the Open Hand**  
 _Interlude 1A - Emma_

Emma wondered what was up with Sophia. Ever since she'd gotten back into town, Sophia had been acting... odd. Distracted.

"'I am the master of my fate,'" Sophia mumbled. "'I am the captain of my soul.'"

Emma frowned. That line sounded familiar...

"Was that Invictus?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Sophia blinked and looked over at her. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, it was."

"Huh." Emma considered that. Sophia had never been much for the literary world. Heck, the last time _Emma_ had heard that poem was-

She squashed that thought. That part of her life was over, and she was better off for it. "So, been doing a little reading while I was away, huh?"

"Yeah, kind of." Sophia popped her neck. "What's the word for when you, you know, finally figure out something that you realize should have been really fucking obvious?"

"A revelation?"

"No." She shook her head. "No, that's not quite right. An _epiphany_ , that's the word. I had one last week."

"What _kind_ of epiphany?" Emma prodded. It sounded like this was big.

"You know how I said there were two kinds of people, strong and weak?"

"Of course." How could she forget? Sophia had opened her eyes then, helped her change from the weak, naive little girl she had been to who she was now.

"Well... there's strong, and then there's _strong_."

Emma frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Like... you and me. We're strong. We do what we want, and we don't let anyone do shit to us," Sophia explained. "But then there's, say, Scion, who's _so_ fucking strong that he doesn't even give a shit about what other people do because they're beneath his notice."

Well, that kind of made sense. "Kind of obvious, really, when you think about it," Emma mused aloud. "Of _course_ some people are going to be strong enough not to care. I mean, would we care if a couple of ants tried to attack us?" She scoffed at the idea.

"Yeah, well... I was out on patrol a few days ago, running solo. Saw a girl cornered in an alley by some skinheads."

"She was strong, huh?"

"She took them out with her bare hands before I could even _try_ to help. It took her ten, maybe fifteen seconds at most. No hesitation at all."

Emma let out a low whistle. "She a cape?"

"That's just it. I'm not sure. She swears she learned it from some crazy lady she met over the summer a couple of years ago, but... she caught a fucking bullet and threw it back. I gave her my number, and after she called me the next day, we sparred for a bit. She put me on the mat so many times, it's unreal, and I barely managed to tag her twice, even with my crossbow. She can even hit me when I'm in my shadow form."

" _Daaamn_ ," Emma said, suitably impressed. This girl was obviously a cape in denial. A Breaker/Thinker combo, maybe? "So, when do I get to meet her?" she asked.

Sophia's head snapped up, and she looked at her - she almost looked surprised to see who she'd been talking to - then shook her head. "Actually, you know what? That's... probably not a good idea. She thinks she can teach people to do what she did, but she'll never even try to teach me if she thinks I'm blabbing her secrets."

Emma frowned. Sophia was being evasive, hiding something. Was she trying to replace her?


	6. Initiation 1-4

**Way of the Open Hand**  
 _Initiation 1.4_

The first day back at school from winter break was actually a relief. Dad had gone hyperprotective since he found out about the Empire 88... _incident_ , and it felt good to stretch my legs a bit more.

I suppose I could have mentioned I could catch bullets... buuut that would have raised awkward questions. Like how, exactly, I knew I could catch bullets.

Yeah, no.

I didn't mind school much. Sure, the trio were annoying, but... well, they were _annoying_ , not really worth getting worked up over - well, most of the time; Emma's betrayal still stung sometimes - and their more physical stunts helped keep my reflexes and situational awareness sharp.

I paused and wrinkled my nose as I approached my locker. What was that smell?

Opening my locker, I stared.

...

Seriously?

Someone had cleaned my locker. I mean, it was _sparkling_ , and stains that had been there since I first opened it the day I started school here at Winslow had obviously been painstakingly scrubbed out. Still, whoever had done it had really gone overboard with the bleach. My nostrils were practically burning.

I took a quick glance to either side and confirmed that, yes, my locker seemed to be the only one to have been so thoroughly sanitized.

I wasn't _that_ messy, was I?

I shook my head.

Whatever.

I noticed the trio off to the side. Emma was glaring at me, confusion on her face, while Sophia looked anxious, and Madison looked bored, but none of them made a move toward me.

Weird.

* * *

The rest of the morning passed pretty uneventfully, aside from Madison and hangers on like Julia yapping inconsequentially again - I had learned to tune them out well over a year ago - but that in itself was a little unusual.

After a weekend or school break, it normally didn't take long for Emma to divulge another secret I'd shared in confidence and twist it against me. Today, however, I hadn't heard a peep from her.

Had Emma finally gotten bored? I knew she still had more ammunition she could use against me, plenty more secrets to betray.

Come to think of it, no one had tried to "accidentally" bump into me or push me either. Odd, that.

Sometimes, when I needed to think without distractions, I would dodge the trio and eat lunch on the roof, in an empty classroom, or even in one of the bathrooms, but today was not one of those days. Besides, I was curious.

As I sat down to eat my sandwich, I watched as Emma and Sophia practically danced around each other. Emma would give Sophia a long, hard look, quickly looking away once the track star glanced in her direction... only for _Sophia_ to study _her_ while _she_ wasn't looking.

I hid a smile behind my sandwich. If I didn't know better, I would think I was watching a romantic comedy. And I did know better. Those weren't looks of longing or attraction; they were looks of _suspicion_ and speculation.

Trouble in paradise? Had Emma gotten tired of having the track star hanging off her? Had Sophia finally realized Emma was inevitably going to betray her some day?

Oh, well. I suppose it didn't matter.

Meanwhile, the rest of the coterie continued yapping the latest gossip, oblivious to the altered dynamic in their midst. No, not oblivious, not all of them. _Madison_ was watching them both, just with a lot more subtlety and a predatory look in her eyes. Someone sensed opportunity.

It was at times like this I was almost glad Emma had ditched our friendship. Navigating the treacherous waters of high school social dynamics looked both dangerous _and_ tiresome, and watching them prowl around each other like a couple of wary dogs was oddly entertaining, no matter the cause. Like a nature documentary.

 _"Behold, the_ Traitorus bitchicus _in their native environment: high school. The alpha is clearly wary as she senses her beta chafing at her leadership, preparing to challenge her dominance. One of the other pack members is more observant than the rest, smelling weakness among the pack leadership."_

They were so distracted, I actually managed to get through lunch without more than a desultory comment about my stick figure. I forgot to pretend to let it get to me.


	7. Initiation 1-5

**Way of the Open Hand**  
 _Initiation 1.5_

"I'm not blind, you know," Mr. Gladly said.

I blinked. "Huh?" He'd asked me to stay after class. That didn't mean I knew why.

"There was glue all over your desk and chair today."

Oh. That. Cleaning that up _had_ been a little annoying, I suppose.

"Taylor," he said with exaggerated patience, "I know there are people who have been giving you a hard time this year," - I rolled my eyes; try the last year and a half, genius... but I suppose I couldn't blame him, since I hadn't had any classes with him last year - "but they seem to be escalating, and I can't help you if you won't let me."

I snorted. _Let_ him help? "I wasn't aware you needed my permission to do your job, Mister Gladly," I said coolly.

"Excuse me?" He frowned.

"You just admitted you know about what's happening, not just now, but other incidents," I pointed out. I tilted my head. "Several of which happened in this very classroom, right in front of you. If you already know what's going on and you're really not blind, just how hard is it to actually pay attention and see with your own eyes who's doing it?" I asked. I shook my head. "Now, you do what you want to do - I don't really care either way - but don't try to pin _your_ choices on _me_."

With that, I turned on my heel and left. I had class to get to, after all.

The bullies, as far as I was concerned, were beneath me. So was a man who refused to do his job properly. He had, after all, just let me know he _knew_ what was going on. I could forgive ignorance or incompetence, but not when it was clearly willful.

As I stepped out of the classroom, I took one look toward the stairwell that led to my next class and saw Emma and her posse loitering around, no doubt waiting for me. Without missing a beat, I turned the other direction and ducked into another classroom, one that would be empty this period.

After verifying the classroom actually _was_ empty, I headed for the window and gave a quick scan outside to make sure I wouldn't be spotted. Satisfied, I hopped out the window and ran up the wall to the roof, then reentered the building through the roof access and made my way to class, avoiding Emma and her hangers-on entirely.

Silly girls. They still hadn't figured out that stairs weren't the only ways to get around this school. I wondered how long it would take before they gave up on intercepting me.

* * *

I bobbed and weaved as Shadow Stalker pressed the attack, then struck out with a quick combo, ending with an open palm strike that sent her flying back a dozen feet. I didn't let my guard down, as that wasn't the end of this match. For this bout, she had five minutes to take a handkerchief tucked into my belt.

Four and a half minutes in, and she wasn't having much luck.

While I wouldn't train her in the Way of the Open Hand or any of the other higher level arts Lia-sensei had taught me, it was still fun to spar, and changing things up like this kept it fresh.

We were exchanging another flurry of blows when the stopwatch beeped. "Time!" I called out.

She growled as she stepped back and dusted herself off. "Hey, Taylor," she said after taking a moment to get her irritation under control.

"Yeah, Stalker?" I asked before taking a pull from my water bottle.

"Is it just me, or, uh, are things at school... different since break ended?"

I gave her a measured look. I still didn't know who she was behind the mask... but I had my suspicions. It was a lot of little things that added up, really: the way she moved and fought, the direction nearly every conversation _not_ about our sparring matches went, the subtle shift in dynamics at school...

If I was right... well, I wasn't sure _what_ to make of that.

"A little bit," I admitted. "I think there's _something_ going on with Emma and Sophia, enough to distract them from bothering me while they sort it out, at least. Either Emma's gotten tired of her track star lapdog, or Sophia's finally figured out Emma can't be trusted. Or both, maybe." I scratched my chin thoughtfully. "Either way, Madison's clearly smelling blood in the water. If I were them - and, you know, cared about my social life - I'd watch my back."


	8. Initiation 1-6

**Way of the Open Hand**  
 _Initiation 1.6_

I had picked up a new hobby: trio-watching.

 _"We now return to the local_ Traitorus bitchicus _pack. Sensing trouble from within the pack, the alpha and beta have closed ranks against the upstart, and in an unexpected surprise, the_ Useless teachericus _appears to be cooperating and actually fulfilling his alleged function, resulting in the dissenting pack member scampering away, properly chastised for reaching above her station."_

Or, in other words, Emma and Sophia had pulled together to fend of Madison's power play, and Mr. Gladly had actually done his job for once. Will wonders never cease? He had given Madison detention when she tried to "accidentally" empty a pencil sharpener on my head today. Emphasis on "tried." With all the weirdness going on, I felt off-balance, and my patience was wearing thin. It was getting harder and harder to force myself to let them have their meaningless victories.

It also pretty much confirmed my suspicions. Still not sure how to feel about that.

My thoughts were interrupted when two people sat down next to me, one on either side. Odd. Generally, no one sat next to me at lunch; while I might not be bothered much by the trio, no one _else_ wanted to risk drawing their attention. I gave them each a surreptitious look. On my left, a girl, long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, Alicia Matheson. On my right... a lot less subtle, what with his shaved head and all, Ernest Peterson, rumored to be Empire 88, but no one had ever confirmed that.

Great. Just great.

"Uh, hey," Ernest said. I declined to reply. "You're, uh, you're Taylor, right? Taylor Herbert?"

I rolled my eyes. "Your powers of observation are astonishing," I answered dryly. He couldn't even get my name right, and I wasn't about to bother correcting him.

"Sorry about Ernest," Alicia said, "but he's not exactly the brightest bulb in the box."

"Hey!"

"Anyway," Alicia continued brightly, ignoring her compatriot, "we thought you could use some help."

"'Help'?" I echoed, furrowing my brow in feigned confusion. "With what?"

"The race traitor and the nigger bitch," Ernest interjected, earning himself a glare from Alicia.

Whatever either of them was going to say next was cut off by a gruff "Hebert" from Sophia as she and Emma approached.

"It's 'Herbert,'" Ernest snapped.

"No," I said, shaking my head, "she had it right. It's 'Hebert.'"

"Oh, Taylor," Emma sing-songed, "hanging with the Empire now?"

I shrugged. "It's a free country. I'm not going to tell anyone where they can or can't sit."

"Then you won't mind if we sit here, will you?" Emma asked sweetly.

I gestured to the empty seat across from me. "Free country," I reiterated.

The tension at the table went through the roof as Alicia and Ernest began glaring at Emma and Sophia. I paid it no mind and focused on eating my lunch.

"So, Hebert," Sophia said, breaking the silence, "what were you three talking about?"

"Hmm?" I looked up from my sandwich, then tilted my head toward Ernest, then Alicia. "Oh, these two seem to think I have some sort of problem with you, I think. Any idea what they might have been talking about?"

Sophia stared at me for a long moment, mumbling something under her breath. Shaking her head, she said quietly, "No. No, I suppose I don't, do I?"

"So it was about me, then?" Emma interjected. "Running to the Empire because you can't take a little teasing, Taylor?" I rolled my eyes. "I bet you still cry yourself to sleep. You did that, for, what? A _week_ when your mother died?"

I stared at her. It took me a moment to process what she had said. It took me another for me to wrap my head around the fact that, yes, she _had_ actually said that. This time, as much as it stung, it wasn't even the fact that she'd betrayed yet _another_ secret shared in confidence that bothered me.

"Are you... are you _really_ suggesting that you _wouldn't_ cry yourself to sleep if _your_ mother died, Emma?" I asked, unable to hide my disbelief. I was flabbergasted. That was just-! I sighed and shook my head. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You _have_ clearly demonstrated that loyalty is an utterly foreign concept to you."

Emma stared, her mouth opening and closing in silent shock.

"Race traitor, like I said," Ernest chimed in. I rolled my eyes.

"Ernest, zip it," Alicia snapped irritably. "Though I suppose he _does_ have a point. Tell me, So-phi-a," at this, her voice turned to butter, "how can you trust someone who betrays her own kind?"

"She has her reasons," Sophia retorted, obviously uncomfortable.

"I'm sure she does," I interjected lazily. "Frankly, Sophia, it's not _who_ she makes friends with I'd worry about if I were you. It's how she treats them when she gets tired of them."

Sophia didn't answer, and after a moment, Emma's head whipped around to stare at her friend.

Alicia cleared her throat. "Why don't you two go sit somewhere else?" she suggested sweetly. "I think it's clear you're not welcome here, right, Taylor?"

"Eh, free country," I reiterated again. I idly wondered if they would actually come to blows.

Sophia glared at her stonily. "I'm not going anywhere."

"And neither am I," Emma declared stubbornly.

I gave Emma a level stare, then shook my head and finally decided to ask the question that had been bugging me for a long time. The charade was over by now, anyway. "You know what I never understood, Emma? Why? Just what are you trying to prove?"

"I'm just trying to remind you of your place," she said, rallying. "You're worthless, and you should remember that. It might save your life some day."

I shook my head sadly. "Oh, Emma, did you learn nothing from Mom? 'I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.' I know my worth, far better than you do, and I know that, once I graduate, nothing here will matter. Not your betrayal, not your lies and rumors, not your little pranks... and certainly not you. Not to me, anyway."

"How _dare_ you-!" she hissed.

"What?" I interrupted. "Get on with my life? Put you behind me? Am I supposed to... what? Swear undying vengeance upon you?" I shook my head. "You aren't worth it, not to me." I tilted my head. "But the friend I used to have? She's at least worth a bit of advice."

"Oh, and what sort of advice do _you_ think you can offer _me?_ " she asked scornfully.

"Not for you," I corrected. "For the little girl I once called my friend. I suggest you stop worrying about my place in the world and think about yours. Because all this?" I gestured broadly towards her and Sophia. "It's not healthy, and... I don't think it's going to work out for you. I mean, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe all the lies you tell - to others, to yourself - maybe they'll get you where you want to go, wherever that is. Hell, maybe you _want_ to end up face down in a ditch somewhere after pissing off someone who actually cares, but somehow..." I shook my head again, "...I don't think so."

Emma recoiled as if she'd been slapped. Sophia frowned, emotions warring on her face.

"'The arc of the moral universe is long,'" I added, "'but it bends toward justice.'"

"Wow," Ernest said. "Never heard a threat sound so... poetic."

"That _was_ quite eloquent," Alicia agreed.

"I can't claim credit for that one," I said with a smirk. "It's a quote from Martin Luther King."

They froze, and I took the opportunity to stand up and leave.

"You _bitch!_ " Ernest called after me. I declined to respond, but I heard him stand up and start after me. I leaned aside, letting his fist fly past my head. He swung again, and I dodged again as I stepped out of the cafeteria and into the hallway.

The third time he swung, he punched a locker and stumbled back, clutching his hand.

"Ahem. _Mister_ Peterson, what are you doing?"

Not _all_ the teachers around here were useless.


	9. Interlude 1B - Sophia

**Way of the Open Hand**  
 _Interlude 1B - Sophia_

She looked down at her prey.

Sophia had underestimated Taylor. Again. The way she'd driven a wedge between her and Emma, verbally eviscerated Emma, then turned around and shut both Alicia and Ernest up was proof enough of that. A few rumors had floated around the school that Taylor had joined the E88, but enough people had seen Ernest taking swings at her as she walked away to dispel them quickly enough.

She hadn't even bothered looking back to dodge.

In light of that, Sophia had needed time to think, to clear her head, so she'd gone out on patrol. She wasn't, strictly, supposed to, but they hadn't been very strict with her to begin with.

Maybe that was the problem.

She'd left her hunting bolts behind. She hadn't taken them out in weeks, in fact. It just seemed... pointless these days. No pun intended.

She nudged the prone body at her feet with a toe. No reaction. She reached up and activated the radio built into her mask.

"Shadow Stalker to console," she said. "Send a pick up wagon. I have Grue in custody."

* * *

"Good job," Aegis said. "I think the director will want to have a few words with you about your unauthorized patrols - _again_ \- but you did good."

Sophia bristled at the compliment before getting hold of herself. "Thanks," she said, giving him a curt nod. Grue was part of the Undersiders, a small-time snatch-and-grab team that had cropped up a few months ago and was already building a reputation for being... slippery. It _had_ been a good collar.

Grue himself had been a personal irritation to her for a while now. The way his power shut hers down terrified her in a way she... probably wouldn't have admitted even to herself just a few weeks ago. She hadn't even been looking for him, but when she saw him, she just _had_ to take the shot.

A gut shot, as it turned out. The other Undersiders had tried to grab him, carry him off, but an unconscious body's hard enough to maneuver when you _weren't_ being shot at. Even so, if the tranqs hadn't knocked him out so quickly - both turning him into a dead weight and disabling his power - they probably would've managed it.

Still, better go ahead and face the music. There was no point trying to please Miss Piggy, but bringing in Grue would alleviate the worst of the inevitable bitching.

Just another day as a government-regulated hero.

Joy.

* * *

Sophia - or rather, Shadow Stalker - didn't call Taylor. Taylor was a... a friend, she thought? Maybe? Sort of, anyway, but not like Emma. Sparring with her was fun and gave her a rush, but _that_ wasn't something she needed right now, not after the adrenaline rush of taking down Grue, and while the philosophical discussions were interesting, it was pretty heavy stuff, took time to digest. And in the end, the elephant in the room refused to go away, the unspoken question of unmasking.

She couldn't. Not yet. Not to _her_.

"Hey, Emma," she said, giving her friend a wave as she leaned in the bedroom door frame. "Your mom let me in. Said you've been acting weird."

"Sophia," came the listless reply. Emma was sitting up on her bed, arms resting on her knees.

Sophia frowned. "What's wrong, Emma?"

"When were you going to tell me?" the redhead asked quietly.

"Huh? Tell you what?"

"About Taylor," Emma said, turning and glaring at her. "When were you going tell me how strong Taylor was? That the best friend I ever had, the friend I _threw away_ because _you_ didn't like her, _you_ thought she wasn't strong enough, was stronger than either of us?!"

Sophia bristled at the accusation but shoved it aside. "Emma, I-"

"I'm not stupid, you know," she interrupted. "You were quoting Invictus with one breath and talking about people who are too strong to care with the next. You started acting differently, cleaned up the locker - don't give me that look; it _had_ to be you - and pulled back on Taylor. Then she came along and quoted Invictus too, the exact same lines, and told us to our faces that _we don't matter_ to her."

"I... didn't know how to tell you," Sophia admitted reluctantly. "I- _we_ misjudged her, mistook kindness for weakness. I'm sorry."

"Was it true, what you said?" Emma asked. Sophia wasn't sure what to make of the look in her eyes. "About her being able to teach it?"

Sophia shrugged. " _She_ thinks she can."

"Hmm," Emma hmmed, giving a brief nod as she looked away, hugging her knees to her chest. "And what would you do if she offered to teach you?"

Sophia opened her mouth, but stopped. She didn't know. "You're still my friend, Emma," Sophia reminded her instead.

The redhead snorted. "I'm no one's friend; people can _trust_ their friends, after all." Sophia couldn't suppress a flinch, but if Emma noticed, she gave no sign. Instead, she just shook her head. "You know, Alicia approached me after that, asked if I was ready to 'stop letting the,' you know, 'drag me down and move up in the world,' said she had 'powerful friends who could really make Taylor pay for what she said.'"

 _That racist bitch!_ Sophia silently fumed. She'd have to make sure to swing by Empire territory later on.

"Me!" Emma gave a bitter laugh. "My _best friend_ is black, and the _Empire_ thinks I'd join them, that I'd turn on you just to hurt my _last_ best friend!"

"You wouldn't," Sophia assured her firmly.

Emma looked at her. "How do you know that?"

"I..." Sophia paused. "I trust you."

Emma snorted again and turned back to staring at the wall. "So did Taylor."

Sophia stepped forward and awkwardly placed a hand on Emma's shoulder. The redhead didn't respond. This wasn't... she wasn't good at this touchy-feely stuff.

"Just tell me one thing," Emma said quietly after a long moment. She looked back at Sophia again. "The truth. You owe me that."

"Of course."

"Taylor. Would she have taught me? If I hadn't turned on her? Would she have helped me be strong?"

Sophia flinched again and looked away.

"I guess that's a 'yes.'"


	10. Assessment 2-1

**Way of the Open Hand**  
 _Assessment 2.1_

When I returned from my morning run on Saturday, I had expected to find Dad waiting for me. What I had _not_ expected was who I found with him.

"Hey, Taylor!" Dad called from the kitchen as I opened the door. "Guess who decided to drop by for once?"

Huh?

"She brought a friend too."

Confused, I stepped into the kitchen, and my face fell at the sight of Emma and Sophia sitting at the kitchen table.

Dad turned, smiling broadly, utterly oblivious. "Speaking of which, how come I haven't seen Emma by recently? It's been at least a year now."

"That's because we aren't friends anymore, Dad," I answered stonily. "She made that _abundantly_ clear when I returned from camp a couple of years ago, and her actions since have demonstrated a certain... _finality_ to that decision of hers." Emma flinched. Huh. Odd. What was that about?

I'd never told Dad about Emma turning on me or the attempts to bully me. It just... hadn't seemed important. Except now, she was _in my home_. I carefully forced my fists to unclench before I did something rash.

"What do you two want?" I asked.

Emma's eyes darted toward my father. I didn't move. Whatever she had come here to say or do, she could say or do it in front of Dad.

"I'm sorry!" she blurted out. "I'm sorry, Taylor! I'm sorry for everything! I just..." she took a raggedy breath. "I'm sorry."

"'Everything'?" I echoed. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific."

She flinched again. "I mean _everything_ ," she said, her voice ragged. "T-turning on you. Betraying your secrets. Th-the insults, the rumors, the pranks. All of it. I'm sorry."

"Emma?" Dad said, his voice laced with disbelief and a hint of anger.

" _Dad_ ," I interjected, holding a hand up. "Let me handle this."

Dad looked at me, then to Emma and Sophia, then back at me. I gave him a reassuring nod. "I'll... be upstairs if you need me, okay, kiddo?" he said. I nodded again, and he backed out of the kitchen. I turned my attention back to our "guests."

"I'm... sorry too," Sophia mumbled. "For, you know, trying to shove you and... hit you and stuff."

Huh. I considered that. They _seemed_ genuine. Well, Emma did. Sophia looked more... preoccupied. Not deceptive, but definitely distracted. Were they really being honest? Had they _actually_ grown a conscience, or was this just another set up? I didn't know.

Better question. Did I really care?

No. No, I didn't. Or rather, I _chose_ not to.

Finally, I shrugged.

"Okay."

Emma blinked. "'O-okay'? That- that's it?"

"Yeah," I said. "That's it. Okay. I accept your apology, for whatever it's worth." Probably not much. "Was there something else?"

Emma looked crestfallen. Sophia looked at my former friend, then shook her head. "You know what?" she said, getting up. "Fuck it. You wanna know why she turned on you? It's my fault. Has been from the beginning."

"Gee, Emma both made a new friend _and_ turned on me while I was away at nature camp," I said with mock surprise. "I never would have guessed that these two events might be connected somehow."

"Damn it," Sophia growled. "I'm being serious here. Emma... some bad shit went down while you were away, and I was there to help her out. She was..." she paused, groping for the right word.

"Weak," Emma supplied, her voice raspy. "You can say it. I was weak, but I needed to feel strong. I thought the only way I could was by putting down the strongest person I know, and that's you, Taylor."

"I'm flattered," I deadpanned. "Really, I am. Now, the part where I'm supposed to care...?" I trailed off meaningfully.

"I screwed up, okay?!" Emma shouted. "Can you... could you ever forgive me?"

I looked at her for a long moment. She looked positively... broken. A small, ugly part of me couldn't help but savor that, and sheer satisfaction warmed my heart. I took a calming breath and ruthlessly shoved it down. I would work through it later.

Much later.

"Maybe," I said finally. "Someday, perhaps. But right now? I'd really appreciate it if you two just got out of my house."

They exchanged a look, then nodded. I followed them to the front door, and Emma turned just as she stepped outside.

"Taylor, I-" her voice hitched, "I wish I could take it all back. I wish we could be friends again." For a very brief moment, I saw her. My BFF. My best friend forever. The illusory girl who had been my rock after my mother's death, whose loss I'd long ago mourned and who I was half-convinced by now had been nothing more than a dream.

Then the memories of betrayal roared to the forefront of my mind, of petty insults and pranks, of enforced isolation, of heartfelt secrets once shared in confidence turned into precision weapons that still occasionally slipped past my defenses, and the moment was gone.

"I never did tell you what I did at nature camp, did I, Emma?" I asked rhetorically. "I met someone, a woman named Lia, and I learned many things from her. One of them was that only a fool chooses to repeat a mistake."

"What-?"

"I trusted you once, Emma," I interrupted. " _That_ was a _mistake_."

I shut the door and turned around. I leaned against the door and slowly slid to the floor.

And I began to cry.


	11. Assessment 2-2

**Way of the Open Hand**  
 _Assessment 2.2_

 _"So you fight monsters?" I asked. Was she a hero?_

 _"All the time," Lia-sensei said. "Every day, even."_

 _"Wow."_

 _"Don't be too impressed, child," she said, shaking her head, and amused smile on her face. "There's a little monster in all of us."_

 _I blinked. "You're talking metaphorically, aren't you?"_

 _"You're a smart one, aren't you?"_

 _My face fell. "My mom was an English professor."_

 _"I see," she said. It was obvious she didn't. "Well, yes, it is metaphorical. But it's also true. Most people pretend it doesn't exist and try to control it when it stirs, but they often fail. Others don't even try and just let_ it _control_ them _. Still others just put it on a leash, letting it loose only on those who deserve it."_

 _I bit my lip. That was kind of scary, but it made sense. A "crime of passion," they called it on TV. "How- how do you deal with it? What should_ I _do?"_

 _She crouched down to look me in the eyes. "You, little one, I will teach you how to kill it, as I do, every day. Just remember, it never actually_ stays _dead."_

* * *

Dad found me there, sitting on the floor, back against the front door, arms on my knees, crying softly. He didn't say anything. He just crouched down and gathered me into an awkward hug.

It was one thing to think Emma had _transformed_ into a petty, spiteful bitch. That, ultimately, my best friend and the traitor weren't _really_ the same person. But it was another thing entirely to realize that _my_ Emma was still in there somewhere, that _my_ Emma really was the same Emma who had betrayed me.

That, ultimately, the only friend I'd _ever_ had had _always_ been just one bad day away from turning on me.

Then I remembered how I felt just minutes ago, the sheer satisfaction coursing through me as I saw her there, broken, sobbing, practically _begging_ for a forgiveness I _could not_ bring myself to grant. I remembered her expression as I slammed the door in her face, first figuratively, then literally.

I guess Lia-sensei was right. There's a little monster in all of us. Emma had let it control her. And in that moment, so had I.

* * *

I told Dad about the bullying of course. It wasn't like I could hide it from him after this. Not that I'd been trying to. It just... hadn't seemed important. And it wasn't like it mattered anymore now, not unless this was all part of yet another prank.

Which, granted, it very well might be.

Dad was furious, and I had to physically restrain him from calling Mr. Barnes and tearing him a new one. The fact that he'd seen me crying hadn't been very helpful in convincing him that it really didn't matter. The fact that yelling at Mr. Barnes, cathartic as it would be, would only make things worse calmed him down a bit, though.

We went to the back yard, and I stood across from Dad. He dropped into a modified boxer's stance; it wasn't how I fought, but it was what he was comfortable with after years scrapping with his fellow dockworkers, and I had helped him clean up his stance and technique.

He hesitated, as usual, so I took the initiative. As usual. I lunged forward with a straight right, which he deflected with his left forearm, countering with a right jab. I leaned back under the punch and kicked out at his shins. Dad danced back, then darted forward with a one-two combo.

He usually didn't get this aggressive this soon when we sparred. He _must_ be pissed.

We continued sparring for several minutes. It helped. Once I goaded Dad past his initial hesitance, it let him vent and tired him out enough that he wasn't going to do anything rash any time soon. It also helped me focus, gather my thoughts, center myself.

First, _were_ they genuine? Had their apology just been an elaborate setup for another prank? I... I didn't think so, actually. Emma had seemed... too open, too... _vulnerable_ for this to be a trick, and Sophia had seemed genuinely concerned for her.

Still, best to find out. And I had an idea how.

"Dad," I said, "I'm heading out."

"For another walk?"

"No," I said. "I'm gonna go see if my other sparring partner's free."

It was time to test a theory.


End file.
